Confession
by Black-Angel-001
Summary: Short about the different things the main charecters have to deal with in their life, both before, during, and after the war. Rating gone up due to violence and charecter death.
1. Kyrie Eleison, Christie Eleison

**Confession**

**Black-Angel-001: sorry if the guys seem a bit OOC, but i don't really think they are. also, i do not proffess to have great knowledge about the catholic religion, if you are catholic and you see something wrong, please tell me for possible future reference.**

**Confession**

The nightmare were always so real, like he was living the events again. Although he'd lost count of the number of me he'd killed, Duo could easily recall their screams as they'd realized they were going to die. Sometimes they cried for mercy, sometimes for a loved one. But always they cried for God.

On a sudden impulse, Duo got up from the bed, kneeled on the cold metallic floor. He paused, then crossed himself. The beads of the rosary were surprisingly warm in his fingers, and they rolled easily in his palm. In a rush, Duo recited a Hail Mary, then again, but slower. The words were rolling off his tounge with practiced ease, as familiar to him as taking in air. He repeated the prayer 18 more times before going into silent thought.

"Duo, would you-" Quatre stopped short. He took in his friend's position, the rosary. "Am I interrupting?" he asked softly.

"No."

"Would you like me to leave?"

"Do you want to leave?"

Quatre considered. "No." He kneeld beside Duo. "What do I do?"

Deathsycth's piolet smiled faintly, taught him the Hail Mary. They said it together.

_"Hail Mary, full of grace..."_

Trowa stepped in, stood in the doorway for a minute. As he watched, he learned, and as he learned he felt a pull. He joined them on the floor. Minutes later, Wufei and Heero took up Trowa's former position. They shared a look before Wufei shrugged and kneeled beside Trowa.

_"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee..."_

Heero felt torn. He wanted to join them but his brain asked why. Because he wanted to know forgivness from somewhere. Without hardly being conscious of it, Heero knelt and joined in. Duo glanced at him. With the last Hail Mary was said, there was a thick silence. The others waited for Duo patiently but expectantly. He bowed his head, thought for a second, took a deep breath.

_"I confess to God Almighty,"_

In the name of all who died, friends and strangers alike;

_"To blessed Mary, ever Virgin,"_

The parents he never knew;

_"To the blessed archangel Michael,"_

Solo and the gang who took him in when there was no one else;

_"To the holy apostles, to all the saints,"_

Father Maxwell, Sister Kate, who saw worth in him when no one else had;

_"And to you, father,"_

All the nameless soilders dead by his hand;

_"That I have sinned"_

The grieving families of the fallen;

_"In thought,"_

The innocent;

_"In word and deed,"_

The guilty;

_"Through my fault,"_

The oppressed;

_"Through my most grevious fault."_

The oppressors.

All dead because of him.

_"Lord, have mercy."_

Was it really worth it?

_"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, amen."_

_"Amen,"_ came the echoed reply.


	2. The Friendly Enemy

**Confession**

**Black-Angel-001: someone wanted me to continue this, but until now i had no idea what to do.**

**Confession**

Wufei walked calmly through the great halls fo the mansion, looking at the paintings and treasures that adorned the walls and antique tables. The floors were covered with thick, rich carpets which absorbed the sound of his footsteps. He paused at the doorway of a large room, furnished just as richly as the rest of the house but with personal touches. The man Wufei sought was at the bar. He stepped forward.

"Welcome Chang Wufei."

Wufei said nothing in response, just moved closer, sword drawn and ready. The aristocrat poured himself a drink and half turned.

"Would you care for something?" he asked courteously.

"Treize Cushranada," yelled Wufei, "tonight you will pay for all of your sins!"

Treize sipped his wine and bowed his head in acknowledgement. He sat in one of the chairs, relaxed and calm, and studied the young man before him.

"You're right, I will pay for all of my sins - later. You will fail in your assissination attempt."

"I will not. One of us will die here tonight, and it will be you."

Treize finished the wine, turned the glass in his hand. Eventually he stood, set the glass on a table nearby and went to the west wall. Wufei watched him draw a sword and readied himself for anything. The head of the Oz group regarded him with something like respect before he thrust in one swift movement. Wufei parried.

It was like a dance where both partners were trying to take the lead, having it, then loosing it. But Wufei was not as well trained in sword fighting as his opponet and soon, with quick patterns and great timing and placement working against him, Wufei lost his sword and fell to the floor. He glared at his advesary. Treize stared back, thoughtful. The boy knelt and bowed his head, waiting for the final strike that would end it. He heard a sword move through the air, heard the tip of it slam into the floor in front of him. He looked up at his enemy, confused.

"None of us really chooses our end," Treize said after a breif silence. "A king may move a man, but even when those who move you are kings or men of power, your soul is in your keeping alone." His deep blue eyes hardened. "When you stand before God, you cannot say, 'But I was told by others to do this,' or that virtue was not convinient at the time. This. Will. Not. Suffice," he emphasised each word as he put his sword down, away from Wufei, and took the other. Treize started to return it but paused and said, "When I was your age, I was told something that will stay with me until the day I do die.

"My father told me: Be without fear in the face of your enemies. Be brave and upright that God may love thee. Speak the truth always, even if it leads to your death. Safeguard the helpless and do no wrong. That is your oath." Without warning, Treize pulled his arm back and backhanded Wufei across the face. Wufei tasted blood on his lips, put his fingers there, saw it, and looked up at Treize in shock. Treize's hardened gaze met his. "And that's so you remember it."

He handed back the sword. Wufei took it and remained kneeling while the man turned and moved away from him, intent on going back to the bar.

"Until a few years ago, I followed that creed. Now I've broken it and I'm ashamed that I have. But when I realized I would do so I told myself, 'So be it'."

"Why did you tell me this?" Wufei stood slowly.

For a moment, Treize didn't speak. When Wufei was almost to the door, the voice of the man he had come to kill stopped him.

"I told you because you, unlike your commrads or my commrads, or anyone else, would understand, remember, and keep what I have said with you and maybe pass it on to your own. The world has no need for a perfect soilder. But it is in need of a soilder who follows and teaches these principles because this is a world of consiounce or nothing."

Wufei thought about those words and their meaning, then walked out.


	3. Gods and Generals

**Confessions**

**Black-Angel-001: on a trip to iraq not too long ago, senator clinton's daughter asked one of the troops there three things that he hated about the war.**

**_soilder: three things? any three things?_**

**_clinton (cause i don't know her name): yes, anything._**

**_soilder: osama, obama, and yo' momma!_**

**Confessions**

Zechs stifled a yawn as he leaned back in his hard metal chair, his head resting on his fisted hand. The general at the front of the room was still talking, and he had started a little over an hour ago. But that was a politician for you- always saying something without saying anything at all. And what this politician was saying was complete and total bullshit, meant to boost the troops moral but not working. Maybe he knew and that's why he was still opening his mouth. Well, his troops knew better- and they are HIS troops, no matter what anyone or any paper said- because he had told them the facts of it as soon as he had taken command.

"At first, the people will come up to you, hug you, kiss you, and thank you. You will constantly hear about how proud they are of you and how you're fighting for the right cause, the just cause. That's half of the population. The other half will come up to you, spit on you, kick at you, and curse you. You will constantly hear how they hate you and how you're throwing away your life and killing thousands of innocent people for no good reason. After about a year, the half of the population who thanked you will also curse you. The half who cursed you to begin with will gloat about being right, and in general you will see nothing but bad reports on the news about what you're doing, who you are, and what the military is as whole. In short, you will be hated before this is over."

The look of shock on their young, clean faces had almost been funny.

Almost.

Of course there had been the smart ass of the group, who asked if the enemy would go through the same thing.

"Yes," he'd replied, "that's probably the only common thing we'll be fighting against." There had been a few grins, a couple of laughs, and then they'd started training. A year later, his predictions came true and the men hardly ever doubted him again. True they sometimes questioned orders, but not without good cause, and he never berated them for it: if a CO thought his guys might get needlessly hurt or killed because of stupid commands, yes he was going to question it. It was a real pain to have to take in replacements for casualties.

He couldn't stop another yawn in time and didn't bother to cover it. Noin elbowed him with a frown and he smiled a little. She shook her head and turned back to the general. She was bored to tears. Zechs couldn't blame her. After all, a polotician belonged behind a podium or in some office, not on a battlefield.

An alarm sounded. Zechs jumped a bit, tried to clear the fog in his mind. Somewhere along the part of 'we will triumph and glory will forever be ours' he had dozed off. Now his soilders were filing out quickly. It didn't take long for Zechs to be among them. The general came up beside him, looking flustered and very, very nervous.

"Merquise, what the hell is going on?"

"We're being called out. Probably to provide support or to launch a counter strike." He always kept his calm, his control. He was famouse for it.

"Will I have to- ?" General MacDouglas coughed, either unwilling or unable to finish that sentance. Zechs was at his mobile suite now. He turned and smirked.

"Well, sir, seeing as how you are commander it would be wise, don't you agree? Who else will lead the men to 'triumph' and 'glory' sir?"

"Don't patronize me!" snapped MacDouglas. His little beady eyes shifted in his sockets like a traped animal. Zechs didn't bother to say anything more, just strapped himself into his suite and went to join his men.

The battle was long and draining. Both sides returned to their respective bases, knowing that it would be pointless to continue the fight and were willing to let it just end. General MacDouglas had come after all, but he had been useless. None of his orders were obeyed and most of the time he was screamig, cursing himself for requesting the commission and the powers that be who put him there. Zechs was just glad most of his unit was still around.

That night, he and Noin went to the O Club, to try and drown the screams and explosions and nightmares away.

The wounded members of the unit slept off the painkillers and injuries in the hospital wing; Zechs privately thought that they were the lucky ones since the drugs didn't let you dream.

The non wounded soilders spent the night in the bunkhouse and did one of two things: 1- woke up screaming or 2 didn't sleep at all.

General MacDouglas asked for a transfer that night.

**Black-Angel-001: and that takes care of zechs. hope you enjoyed.**


	4. What I've Done

**Confession**

**Black-Angel-001: To Queen's Knight of Ni, formerly Shinigami, I, the Queen of Ni, bestow upon him the Shrubbery of Honor for all the help that he gave me for this chapter, which couldn't have been possible without his insight. Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!**

**Confession**

Someone was trying to kill him. That particular bit of news wasn't very disturbing, as he was used to it. What was distrubing was that he didn't know why, or who, wanted him dead. Because he was a former Gundam pilot? Because he was the head of the Winner family? What was it?

Quatre scrubbed at his face with the heels of his hands. He was so tired. Maybe he should take Trowa up on that vacation he'd suggested a few months back. First was that meeting, though. He really didn't want to go but he had no choice. Quatre straightened his rumpled suit, grabbed his breifcase, and walked to the conferance room. The best thing about being the boss, Quatre decided, was that it didn't matter if he was late or not because he had no one to answer to. He smiled at the annoyed faces gazing at him. Quatre pulled out papers and began.

Dorothy was unusually quiet during the meeting, her eyes shuttered.

He found out why soon enough.

As the other executives were leaving, Dorothy slowly got to her feet, eyes never leaving Quatre. He couldn't help but stare back, unable to move or look away, even as her arm raised and he saw the glint of the pistol. The loud crack echoed in his ears before he was knocked over and out of the way by something large. There was a grunt. His shocked mind put everything together. Dorothy had shot at him, Rashid had tackled him out of the way, and had taken the bullet.

The soilder in him roared to life.

Quatre scrambled out from under Rashid, taking the injured man's own handgun in the process. Another bullet wizzed by his head but he didn't worry about it. In the space of a few seconds the safety was off and he was firing. Once, twice, three, four times. He lost count. The only sound in the room was the clicking of the empty chamber. A hand touched his arm. He jumped. Tears were running down his face and he was shaking badly. The gun was taken from his slack hands and gentle arms were put around his shoulders to take him away from Dorothy's bloody body.

Quatre couldn't eat or sleep, couldn't stand to. Every time food or drink entered his stomach he felt sick and threw it back up. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Dorothy's still and twisted form, eyes wide with shock, lips parted and bloody, blood pooling around her form and staining her near white blonde hair. The eight shots in her upper and lower torso, the four in her head. Soon it got to the point where he saw it while he was awake.

His friends didn't know what to do to help. They tried talking to him, but Quatre would just sit there, looking into space and not listening. Eventually they stopped trying to talk and would join him in his silence. Someone, he couldn't remember who, had suggested therapy. He'd laughed. Didn't know why, but that's what he did.

After nearly two months of that, Quatre decided to hell with it all. He couldn't trust himself in public, in fact he hardly left his house, he was so terrified that he might hurt or kill some innocent person or worse yet, one of his friends. He felt like he had back during his first encounter with the Zero system: crazy and dangerous. He thought and thought but only saw one possible way for it all to end.

Quatre held it in the palm of his hand, a single bullet in the chamber. Duo had often mentioned seeing guys kill themselves on the streets of L2 and had wondered why they put three or four bullets in. "Did they think they were gonna miss?" he had joked. At the time, it had helped relieve some tension before the battle but later, after all was said and done, Duo apologized for it. Well, he wasn't going to miss. He put the barrel to his temple. Oddly enough, he didn't feel anything. Not guilt, sadness, regret, relief, nothing. It was a blessing but Quatre had to wonder at it. Why didn't he feel anything when he was about to take his own life, but emotions bombarded him when he took someone else's?

He took a deep breath, his last, closed his eyes, focused on the sound of his pounding heart, and squeezed the trigger.

The chamber clicked.

Quatre blinked then slowly lowered the weapon, shaking his head. He had a hunch that all the bullets in the house were blanks too. One of his friends had been busy. As he was formulating and discarding plans to get real bullets, the phone started ringing. Quatre clenched his fist and willed the person to go away. They didn't listen. The machine finally picked it up. There was silence for half a second, then a tired, aching voice that spoke only two words.

"I understand."

More silence. Quatre waited and realized that Heero wasn't going to say anything else. He heard the phone move and Quatre scrambled to get his, desperate to talk to Heero know. He picked up the reciever. A pause.

"How?" he asked. Quatre knew his old commrade would understand the question, if he truly understood what he was going through now.

"A little girl and her dog." Another pause. "I didn't kill them directly, but my actions did cause their deaths."

In spite of himself, Quatre felt sympathy and a need to comfort rise up in his chest. That was what he did in the group, his role. He offered comfort and a shoulder to lean on. Even now, in the pits of hell, he took up that position. He heard Heero chuckle softly, knew the other had guessed it without being told.

"What did you do?" Quatre asked. He felt the need to know how the Perfect Soilder handled being...unperfect. He held his breath.

"I was re- trained." The casuall shrug could almost be heard. His heart sank and his hope died. Now what?

"Heero, I don't know what to do! I can't stand living with what I did!"

"You've done it before."

"But..." His voice cracked. He swallowed and continued in a hushed whispher. "But this was Dorothy, not some nameless soilder I'd never met."

More silence. Quatre knew Heero was taking it all it, absorbing and analyzing to find the best solution. He's already done that, he wanted to scream. The best solution was denied him by well meaning friends who didn't know what they were doing by keeping him from death. The seconds ticked by into minutes. Quatre thought about hanging up but couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Quatre," Heero said his name on a sigh, "I can't tell you what to do, only what I would do. Even now, what I would do in your situation is unclear because I've...changed. If I had failed during the war, I would have pushed myself to the breaking point on the next mission, to make sure that nothing went wrong. Now, however, I'm not sure."

"Oh." What else could he say to that?

"Actually, you all help me now."

"Huh?" Brilliant response.

"If something goes wrong at work, like I couldn't save all the hostages in a tense situation, you and everyone else help me get through it. Trowa takes me to a club, Wufei spares with me, Duo lets me help in the salvage yard or we play a game of basketball or football, and you listen when I need to vent. You help me get back on track and make sense of the world again."

"Heero, this isn't exactly the same thing."

"No, it isn't. This is a personal battle for you, and while we can offer support, you, in the end, must make the ulitmate decision about what to do."

Quatre thought about that. Heero was right. Looking at the gun laying so innocently on the desk, he began to wonder. "Heero, do you ever think about that little girl?"

"Everyday."

"What do you see?"

"The first time I saw her, in a white dress and hat, leading a dog on a leash, laughing and smiling. Holding out a flower to me. Then, the mobile suits crashing into an apartment building. Finding her body later, the dog's..." Heero's voice trailed off. Again, Quatre felt the need to offer support. He fought against it but it wasn't easy. How do you fight your own nature? Heero sighed. "Lately, it's only been before, so maybe that's a good thing."

"Maybe."

"Quatre, do what you feel you must. That's all you can do."

"Right." He was starting to sound like Trowa or Heero, with all his one word responses.

"There's a box in the top drawer of your desk." Then he hung up. Quatre stared at the phone for a minute before putting in back in it's cradle. What had he meant by that?

He pulled open the drawer that Heero had mentioned and saw a box of bullets. They weren't blanks. He picked one up, rolled it between his fingers, thinking. He looked at the gun, still laying where he'd left it. His hand clenched around the bullet, determination shining in his eyes. Whatever pain came, it would end today.

He'd made a decision.

**Black-Angel-001: you'll find out what q-man did in the last chapter.**


	5. Pain

**Confession**

**Black-Angel-001: here's heero's.**

**Disclaimer (since I haven't done it in forever): I don't own Gundam Wing or anything related to it.**

**Confession**

"All units, please be advised..."

Preventer agent Heero Yuy drowned out the rest. It just didn't interest him. He mentally urged his car to go faster and it obeyed, the engine groaning. Wufei was saying something but Heero was focusing on the opening he'd just seen. The perp was slowing down. Little more, more...there! Heero slammed the brakes, turning the wheel sharply to the left. His tires squealed against the pavement, felt them loose traction then get it back. Somewhere in the back of his head he registered that Wufei was screaming through the radio but he was focused on the fifteen hundred pounds of steel coming at him. Heero gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

There was a pause.

Heero felt the hard impact first, then heard metal being crushed and twisted, glass shattering. Then the world was spinning. Once. Twice. Three times. Heero felt something hot cust across his head but dissmissed it. Finally, the world stopped spinning and stayed sideways. Heero blinked. He heard shouting and curses over the radio and was surprised that it still worked. He was even more surprised to find that he was clutching it in his hand. The shouts were getting closer, louder. Heero felt something warm running down and dripping off his body. He closed his eyes. The pain was intense-he hurt everywhere.

"Officer down, where's that fucking ambulance?"

"Good Lord, look at him. How'd he survive?"

"Seatbelt saved him, kept him from getting thrown out."

"Yuy, can you hear me?"

Everything faded away.

Heero really didn't hate many things. Pink, stalking blondes, and hospitals. Hospitals were at the top of the list. Not only was the food terrible, but his friends managed to get the nurses to keep him sedated just enough that he couldn't escape. Not like he was going anywhere soon but still.

He was lucky. Heero knew that. The worst was a broken arm from a piece of metal that had hit him and a few broken ribs but he'd had much, much worse. Heero had stopped telling his friends about that since it didn't seem to help but make things worse. Wufei had cursed him, lectured him, then left. The next day he was back with a whole new speech. Quatre was considered missing, so he hadn't heard from 04, which he wasn't too upset about; Quatre angry was never good for one's health. Trowa had lectured him as well, and Lady Une sent two reports within minutes of each other, one saying he was going on report and the other that he was officially sitting behind a desk until furthur notice. Only Duo never saw him, never even sent a note, and that hurt Heero more than his wounds.

The day he was released he found his best friend waiting for him. Duo didn't say a word, barely looked at him. Heero frowned. Duo didn't look like he was in much better shape than Heero was. His face was covered with yellow, fading bruises, his right eye a fading purple, and his lips had healing cuts. He thought there was finger marks around his neck but couldn't be sure because of the usual high collar. But his left wrist was definetly in a splint.

"What happened to you?"

"Fight." Heero's frown deepened. What was going on?

The car ride was silent. Every now and then Heero glanced at the man sitting next to him. Duo's face was expressionless, which was very unusual. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Heero's apartment. Still neither of them said anything.

As soon as Heero had closed the door and turned, he felt a fist connect with his jaw. He staggered back a bit, staring at Duo. His face was no longer expressionless. At the moment, he had his 'Shinigami is here and your ass is so screwed!' look.

"You deserve more than that, but I'll wait until you're better before I kick your ass."

"Why?" Heero rubbed his jaw. It didn't really hurt, but it was sore. His arm was throbbing.

"Cause you deserve it. what the fuck is wrong with you, Yuy? You put your car in front of that guy and barely made it out alive!"

"He had to be stopped."

Duo threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "They had someone a few feet with a rifle, ready to take a tire, or him, out, and a tire strip further up just in case. If you'd listened to what was being said on the radio like you're supposed to, you would've known that."

Heero opened his mouth, then closed it. What could he say to that?

"I'm sorry?" Duo's gaze became murderous.

"Not gonna cut it. Why do you feel the need to kill yourself Heero?"

"I don't-"

"So far you've taken four bullets, blew up a building while you were still in there, went head first into a gun fight...shall I go on?"

Heero shook his head.

"Face it, you're still trying to self destruct," continued Duo, "and I have no idea why." Heero didn't say anything. Duo sighed and flopped onto the couch, looking defeated and tired. "I don't want to lose my best friend. You and the other guys are the only family I've got, and I'm doing my damndest to keep it together."

Heero sat next to him, thinking. "It's hard for me. To adjust, to have people look at me and see 01, the man who destroyed so many lives."

"Heero, we've all done our fair share of that."

"But it isn't so hard for the rest of you. You all seemed to take look around you, acknowledge that this was the way it had to be, and adjusted. You can function normally." Heero ran his good hand through his bangs. "Being a soilder is all I've ever known, all I was ever trained to be. I know what I have to do to keep the peace but it's still hard. I look at the faces of some of the men I work with and instead of seeing co-workers, I see the enemy."

"It hasn't really been that easy for us, either. Granted, we're nowhere near the same level as you, but it hasn't been a cake walk either. After the stunt with Marimiea, Wufei had one helluva time trying to get the government officials to trust him. Quatre had to establish himself in his own company, and god only knows what happened to him or where he is. Trowa's having a hard time too because he travels a bit more than the rest of us and sees the results of all those battles. He's got nightmares."

"And you?"

Duo chuckled. "I get into a fight pretty much every day at the yard. Hilde hired some old Oz buddies to help out, and they still don't like me that much. Point is, nobody just adjusts instantly after a war. You work your way through it the best you can, lean on the people who support you."

Heero thought. It made sense, but what could he do? If he didn't put himself in dangerous situations, what was left? What could he do? Slow down and try to get used to a life where your life wasn't constantly in danger and you weren't on the run all the time? The real question was if he could do it. He looked at Duo. The other's face was more calm now, serious but a glint of humor in his eyes. Maybe...

"Mission accepted."


	6. Question

**Confession**

**Black-Angel-001: slight wuffie angst, insight, psychoanaylysis, and not much else...except for the no dialouge thing...**

**Confession**

The high mountains, the forest of bamboo trees, the mist covered sun-it ws everything the elders had described, everything he had read about. His people, his ancestors, had come from this place. Wufei was awed and humbled. He was also ashamed.

What would they say if they were standing there with him? For that matter, what would he say? How could he confront them?

Wufei allowed his eyes to roam towards the heavens, where the great mountains faded into the clouds. She had wanted to see this. He felt the now familiar clench of his heart. Merian, his wife. Oh, the marriage had been in name only, and would have been consumated when she'd reached a certain age, but still. It had joined their two families, bringing an end to the generations worth of rivalry and bitter conflicts.

Merian had been full of life, full of energy. She had always been ready to fight, to do what she thought was right. The complete opposite of himself, really. He hated fighting, tried to avoid it if possible. If he thought about it, Wufei mused, how many times a day had Merian, tiny, dark Merian, slammed into his study and demand to spar him? How many times had she lectured him, scolded him, about keeping his nose in those books and avoided looking at the real issues?

Wufei sat cross-legged on the ground and put his head in his hands. Gods, how he missed her! Their arguments had been legendary on L5 and most times Marian got her way. Not because it was easier for Wufei to give in (and it always was) but because he loved her. If he could fulfill a request, he did. And Merian smiled brilliantly each time, kissed him, and thanked him quite prettily.

They had been content.

In many ways, his four friends reminded him of Merian. Duo had her exuberance, Quatre her determination, Trowa her ability to read between the lines, and Heero her ability to get things done. That was why he tried to put distance between them, why he was forever arguing with Maxwell. If he didn't get too close, then if they died it wouldn't hurt so much.

But he was too close, and not just to them. Sally, Noin, Hilde, Relena, even Zechs; he respected and admired them.

Wufei shook his head. He needed to look ahead, not back. As the only survivor of his clan, he had to restore it, bring it the full honor it once had. But how? He had done so many dishonorable things. And besides, he needed a wife, a good, strong woman who would not bring shame to the Chang name.

Sally Po.

He smiled at the thought. Yes, Sally would be all those things and more. She was kind, caring, cool in a crisis. She could put up with his fits, his rants, calm him with a touch or soothing word, silence him with a look and shake of her head. She reminded him that there was life outside of work and helped him live it. Of all the women he knew, he admired and loved Sally the best.

Suddenly, Wufei chuckled. If Duo or Sally knew that he didn't really hate or think very ill of women, they'd discuss it for hours, dragging everyone else into it. Then they would tease him mercilessly until he threatened bodily harm to which Duo would merely grin and Sally smile knowingly.

But it would still be the truth: he didn't hate women, and he didn't really think they were weak. Actually, he privately believed women were stronger than men in their own ways. Relena, for example. She helped maintain the peace when no man could. Women brought life into the world and made it possible for families to continue. For that reason, and many others, the fairer sex was treated with respect in many cultures, including his own. It hadn't always been that way, granted, but that was the way it should always be.

Calling women 'weak' or treating them rudely had always gone against the grain for him, but it was another defense on his part. If he allowed a woman back into his heart, he was afraid what happened with Merian would happen again. That final argument, that clash of views pushing both parties to the breaking point. That's what had killed Merian. She'd accussed him of being weak, a dishonorable man with no justice in his heart. Then she had stolen a gundam and fought.

And she had died.

Wufei shuddered. He never wanted to go through that again. He sighed, looked back up at the majestic scene before him. All of a sudden, he wanted to share it with Sally and see her eyes light up at the beauty around them. He wanted to share with her all of his thoughts and aspirations, to hear hers. He wanted to tell her about his life before the war, before the destruction of his home colony.

He wanted to tell her about Merian.

Then he wanted to ask for her help in re-establishing his family name; there was no one better, no one he wanted more, than Sally. As he stood, Wufei went back through the memories and times with Merian, finally laying them to rest. There was no pain, no sense of loss, ache or clench of his heart. Instead, he felt calm. There was sadness, yes, but it wasn't the same as before. With a deep, respectful bow meant for his ancestors and the people of L5 that now resided with them, Wufei left the mountain side. If Sally didn't agree the first time, he would just keep trying until she did.

After all, he had Merian's stubborness.


	7. A Hudred Miles or More

**Confession**

**Black-Angel-001: sally vents at wuffie**

**Confession**

Booooorriiiinnng.

Sally cupped her chin in her hand, frustrated. And bored. Incredibly, stupendously, and insanely bored. She had rearranged her medical office, her side of the office she shared with Wufei, and had cataloged her medical instruments by name, then by size, then by type...maybe she could arrange them by what they do?

You'd think working as a medic and field officer would mean constatly having something to do, especially when you were working as a medic and field officer for the Preventers, but no. She and Wufei were taking a break after months of survelliance paid off in a raid they lead only a few days ago. There wasn't even a papercut for her to work on. Sally suspected her lack of patients wa because of her partner, stubborn idiot. He would take Une's order to do 'nothing but show up' to the extremes. Well, Sally had a thing or too to say about that. Wufei had no right to interfere with her doctoring. Sally Po had no keepers, thank you very much. Her face relaxed into a smile. Thinking about Wufei, even if it was what she was going to say when she yelled at him, made her want to do that.

"Sally, I need to talk to you!"

'Somehow, I don't think it's a papercut,' thought Sally wryly. 'Although I wish it was.'

The doctor turned in her swivel chair to greet her visitor with a wide and bright smile. She patted the exam table in a motherly way, almost in a condesending way. Zechs simply storde to the table and threw himself on it with grace. Sally didn't know wether to giggle or roll her eyes. The man looked like a three year old in the throws of a pitiful tantrum but he still had that aristocratic grace pouring off him.

"How can I help you, Zechs?"

"I think my house is haunted." Sally blinked.

"Pardon?"

"You heard me. I think my house is haunted."

"Then maybe you should see Duo or Wufei about exorcism. How do you...?"

With a perfectly straight and calm expression, Zechs said, "My wife lives there. I open the door and all I hear is 'Get out!'. And things get thrown at me, there's always yelling and screaming..."

Now he looked so upset that, despite her best intentions, Sally began to giggle. If Zechs noticed he didn't care-he just wanted to know what to do about Noin.

"Zechs, she pregnant." Maybe he could figure it out from there, after all he was smart.

"So?" Then again maybe not.

"Her hormones are going top speed. She's going to be like this for a while." The giggles wouldn't stop and in fact just kept getting worse with each changing facial expression by Zechs.

"How long, exactly, is a while?"

'You poor, poor man,' she thought as she said, "Well, she's three months now, so six months or so, give or take a few weeks."

"And there's nothing you can do?" Zechs looked ready to cry. Give him a group of men to lead and he didn't have a problem. Put him in a mobil suit and he doesn't break a sweat. But toss him into the same room with a hormonal pregnant wife and he thinks she's possessed. Sally started laughing as she patted his head. What would he be like when the baby arrived she wondered?

"Sorry, but no. the hormone stampede will calm down later though." The hope shining in his eyes made her laugh harder when she shooed him out the door.

"What was that about?"

Sally managed to control her laughter long enough to tell Wufei what had just transpired. He didn't laugh but he did smile. That smile seemed to transform him and for some reason, Sally became flustered. She pointed an accussing finger at the young man.

"You scared off all my patients, didn't you?"

Wufei didn't seem overly concerned that she had figured it out and that made her more infuriated, even more so when he shrugged. "There are at least fifteen other doctors here, and I assume that most of the agents are able to apply band-aids by themselves."

"That's not the point," she fumed. Why did she feel like stamping her foot? "The point is, I have nothing to do, you had no right to do what you did, and who the hell do you think you are to even consider it?"

Her partner arched an eyebrow. Oh he was soooo irritating! She wanted to argue with him, damn it, but he wasn't cooperating, the jerk!

"I am your partner." Why did that word sound like something else? "Unless I am mistaken, partners look out for each other. As your partner it is my right. And if you're so bored, why don't you do paperwork or something?"

"Are you joking? Paperwork is worse!" Sally sank into her chair and put her face in her hands. "Why do you insist on doing this to me, Wufei?"

"Because I..." Sally didn't let him finish.

"And another thing! Where do you get off interferring in my personal life, namely my love life?" She surged to her feet. Wufei took half a step back, eyes wide with surprise. "You are not allowed to scare my dates away, partner or not! If you don't want me to see anyone else why don't you ask me out yourself and save you and me the agony, and the men heartattacks!"

As she ranted, Sally steadily walked forward, and Wufei walked back until he was out in the hallway. A few heads popped out of offices, interested to see what the normally quiet and softspoken Sally Po was screaming about. It wasn't like she hadn't yelled before, but she didn't do it enough for it to be a common occurance. Whatever they'd expected to see, it wasn't the sight of Agent Chang, the very much feared Agent Chang, backing away and looking slightly afraid as Agent Po advanced. She was working herself into a fine rage and most deemed it wise to just slink back into their offices and wait it out hoping that they didn't get targeted.

"...ever again! Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Wufei stared at Sally, trying to gather his thoughts. All he knew was that her yelling at him for being concerned about her well being made him...frustrated. Slightly unappreciated. Wanting to yell back. But, he wouldn't yell. Not yet, anyway.

"Sally, will you have dinner with me?"

That made her pause. She seemed at a loss for words, and had no idea where that had come from. He went on. "I'll expect your answer by four this afternoon." Then he turned and walked away very calmly. He smirked with satisfaction when Sally started ranting again.

"How dare you, you you you you...ARGH!" The door of her exame room slammed shut. Wufei grinned wider as he settled in his chair, reaching for the phone to make reservations at one of her favorite resteraunts. This was going to be more interesting than he thought.

**Black-Angel-001: okay, that SO did NOT go the way i was hoping it would go. i meant for sally to comment on everyone but it kinda got away from me...ggggrrrrrr...**


	8. When I Get Where I'm Going

**Confession**

**Black-Angel-001: my thought hamsters didn't wanna help me with unforgiven, but they were very insitant about trowa getting his moment of...whatever this is...pretty much based off of the song 'when i get where i'm going' by brad paisley. if you haven't heard it, you need to.**

**Dislcaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the respective charecters.**

**Confession**

He didn't know what to do. Things were tense at the circus with him and Catherine fighting constantly; it was just getting so hard to work with her when she kept looking at him with eyes that asked "What's wrong with me? Why won't you love me?" Trowa couldn't seem to make her understand that it wasn't a choice on his part to love her or not. He just honest-to-God did not believe that it was possible for him to love. Growing up with mercinaries, one learned rather quickly that things just didn't last. No one had shown him love, or how to love, so Trowa wouldn't know how to go about it. Catherine just wasn't able to grasp that he could show affection and fondness because that was all he himself was shown. She insisted that he could learn, that she could teach him if he only let her in. The pleading became tears, the tears became anger, and the anger became arguments.

Trowa paused in the middle of the almost empty sidewalk and tilted his head back, staring at the glittering stars. They only did that on earth, he realized, and for some reason felt a twinge of sadness. They seemed so much warmer shining through the atmosphere, not like in space where they just hung there. Then again too, though, from earth they were so far away but in space it was like you could reach out and grab a handful...

What the hell was he thinking? Trowa shook his head and began moving again. The cold London air pulled at his coat, causing him to wrap it tighter around him. Maybe he should go and visit those deserts Quatre talked about so fondly.

And that opened a new can of worms, he thought to himself ruefully. Not only did he have no clue as to what he was going to do with himself if he left the circus, a very real possibility, but his best friend was missing. Trowa knew he could talk to one of the other pilots, and they would help as best they could but...he wasn't all that comftrable talking to them about something so personal. Trowa felt as though he could talk to Quatre about anything-apparently that was a one way street. He needed to ask someone what the hell to do about Catherine, he needed to hear the reassurances the he could do more than be a target for a knife, he needed a shoulder to lean on, he needed

To get out of the snow that was actually frozen rain before he was miserable and wet. Trowa ducked under a large overhang, watch the icy rain fall, and sighed heavily, his breath puffing in front of his face.

"Hello sir, buy a flower for your missus?"

Instinct ingrained from a lifetime ago made him turn sharply, ready for a fight. The girl standing a few feet from him kept smiling, never realizing the danger. She held a bunch of little white flowers in a grubby hand, a basket full of other identical bundles hanging in the crook of her other arm. She looked dirty, hungry, cold, and oddly content. When a few minutes had passed and Trowa still hadn't said anything, the flower girl frowned.

"Well, if you didn't want no flowers you coulda just said so," she sniffed in that thick English accent. Trowa pulled himself together.

"No, I'm sorry. Yes, I'll take one please." The smile returned, money and then flowers exchanged hands. While she put the money safely away somewhere in her dress, Trowa fingered the delicate blossoms, thinking.

"Here now, what's got you so serious lookin'?"

"Excuse me," blinked the circus performer. The girl put on a puzzled look as she sat at the base of the pillar opposite him.

"For what? You ain't done nothin'." Before Trowa could form any response, she continued. "Between you an' that gentlmen there," she nodded to a huddled figure four collumns away, "you're thinkin' hard 'nough for the entire Parliment, you are."

Trowa spared the other person a glance but quickly decided he wasn't much of a threat.

"How come you're so content?"

Shock flitted across her young face and her brown eyes grew wide. After a thought, she smiled up at him.

"Suppose it's cause I ain't too worried none." She arranged her flowers as if that was that. Trowa frowned.

"But how? You can't be making a decent living selling flowers on the street; you could probably do something else if you really wanted."

"Probably," she agreed aimiably. Out of the corner of his eye, Trowa noticed the huddled person had moved a little closer. Again he didn't seem threatening and again Trowa dismissed him.

"Then why?"

"Thought you wanted to know how," she grinned, then waved away his reply. "Ain't gotten where I'm supposed to be yet, but when I get there, everythin' will've been worth it," she sighed.

"Where are you supposed to be?"

"Home." For some reason, Trowa felt he should've already known that.

"Then why don't you just go there?" Another 'Are you a total idiot?' glance.

"Cause if I went 'fore I was 'posed to, I wouldn't get there."

Silence, except for the rustling of flower stems, sniffles, and the howl of the wind.

"Where's home?" He heard himself ask.

"You gotta find it for yourself. Home is different for everyone." He let that sink in, then asked another question.

"What's love?" Where had that sad, pitiful, lost little voice come from? Not him, had it?

The flower girl's mouth hung open for a second before she shut it with a snap and regarded him with a sad smirk.

"Don't know much 'bouth nothin', do ya sir? Loves the same as home, just in a different way. They go together. Just that it ain't the same for everybody, or else it wouldn't be so special. When you love someone, you find a home, and that means that you'll be so happy you'll cry." She sighed dreamily. "But you gotta earn it," she informed him sternly. "Ain't nothin' in this life free, includin' that home."

Trowa chewed on that for a while. It made sense, but he was scared. He couldn't do it, any of it, by himself. He needed help.

"Course you do, everyone needs it." Trowa blinked. Had he really just said that last part out loud? "But can't nobody do it for you. They can walk beside ya, behind ya, they can even lead ya a little, to get ya started. But sooner or later, you're gonna hafta do for yourself and they gotta take the backseat. Otherwise, you'll never wind up where you're supposed to go." She looked out at the street and made a happy noise. Without bothering with a goodbye she gathered her basket and left. The other stranger was gone too. And the rain/slush/ice had stopped.

How odd for him to be wishing for help, then have a stranger do just that, albeit unknowingly. The kind of help he'd been looking for, though, was for someone to lead him along and tell him what to do. When his world had shook at the seams again, Trowa hadn't known if he'd have been able to stand on his own again. The girl was right, he had to go own his own path to find home, and maybe find love. And maybe, just maybe, he'd find out where he was going.

**Black-Angel-001: that was so sappy and pathetic...review for me anyway please?**


End file.
